


If the Stars Fall

by kaisantrash



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Dark Hermione Granger, F/M, Multi, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-10-25 22:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20731556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaisantrash/pseuds/kaisantrash
Summary: A war that has taken too much from Hermione Granger forces her to try and change the past and, by extension, the future. But Tom Riddle is not one to be convinced by a good heart. No, only the dark will appeal to him.or, alternatively,Hermione Granger is sick and tired of the war and decides a Dark Lord that answers to her is better than what she's got.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first HP fic on AO3 so bear with me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my first Tomione fic. As you can probably tell from the tags, it is time travel but that doesn't come till a bit later. The fic's first few chapters are Hermione/Bill but it will eventually become exclusively tomione. There will be dark themes and violence. I have chosen not to put trigger warnings at the beginning of every single chapter but there will be sexual violence, depression, torture etc.

The first thought that came to Tom Riddle’s mind was that she was too thin. Her collarbones were prominent, bulging against the brown skin that seemed stretched over her bones too thin. Her eyes were hungry, and it was almost confronting to see the look in her eyes that looked so similar to the one he saw when he looked into the mirror.

His second thought was that she had just walked into Riddle Manor, wand in hand, without triggering a single one of his wards. 

“Oh, do put it down, Tom,” the woman said with an air of nonchalance, waving a hand dismissively. Her voice was warm, as if they were old friends simply meeting for a chat. 

Tom’s wand hand didn’t waiver. “Who are you?” He asked, his voice calm despite the fact that he was starting to feel an inkling of dread without knowing exactly why.

Her full lips, painted red, pulled into a smirk. “I’m either your best friend,” she said, a little breathlessly perhaps, “Or your worst enemy.”

Tom didn’t hesitate. A flash of red leaving his wand in an instant only to be battered away like an annoying fly by the woman. “Really?” She said with a sigh. 

He had stepped back in shock at how easily his Dark curse had fallen away from her without even as much of a hint of a shield. “Who are you?” He asked again, insistence in his tone.

The woman stepped forward towards him, and he seemed frozen in his place as she moved. “My name-”  _ Closer _ . “-is Hermione,” she said, stopping just a foot away from him. 

He had never felt so -

Lost.

_ No. _

Useless.

He was frozen in his place while she -  _ Hermione  _ stood infront of him, so close he could count her lashes, that he could share her breath, that he could feel -

She was in his mind.

He snarled. “ _ Get out!”  _ He hissed, snapping out of the stupor she seemed to have him under. He moved swiftly, hissing out a smile that hit Hermione, sending her hurtling across the living room and into an armchair. 

Another spell left his lips, wrapping ropes around the woman as she lay on the carpet and pulling her into an upright position. She had become undone, her curly hair had fallen out of the tight bun she had and fell onto her face. Her body was shaking and Tom thought she could be crying until she raised her head and caramel brown eyes met his.

She was laughing, eyes full of mirth and humour as if they had just shared a joke rather than an assault taking place.  _ Who  _ was this woman?!

He grasped her chin in his hand, jerking her head harshly towards him. Her laughter cease.

“Who are you!” He seethed, teeth grinding as his nails left crescent marks against her dark skin. 

“Why don’t you have a look?” She whispered, baring her teeth at him like some sort of animal. Tom faltered for a second before plunging himself headfirst into her mind.

_ Merlin. _

Pain. Unmentionable pain filled him to the core -  _ “CRUCIO!”  _ His body, no  _ her _ body, shaking as the curse burst through her body. Eyes blurry as he stared up at a woman with mad eyes, black curls falling onto his face. 

Then the next second, he was in an open courtyard at Hogwarts, staring across at a figure in the distance, leading a group of masked people. He felt his stomach churning as the figure approached, a tall skeletal figure with pale white features. He didn’t even look human, with his nose just slits against his face and a pale, bald head.

_ “Harry Potter is dead!”  _ The voice rang in his Tom’s dead, the raspy laugh like a bell tolling at the highest possible volume. Tom’s hands blocked his ears, the pain wrecking through his body.

He forced his mind out of the witch’s, stumbling back as if she had pushed him. But she sat still, a smirk upon her lips as she stared him down. 

Tom steadied himself, lip curling as he feigned indifference. “What was that?” He demanded.

“That is your future,” she said, “And I hold it in my hands.”

He stiffened. The skeletal figure was… him? It couldn’t be.

“I could give you all that you want,” Hermione said softly, her expression earnest. “You went down a path that ruined you, and now I can help you take the better path where you will rule.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have a regular posting schedule as of yet due to school, exams etc but after November I should have my shit together. This is more of an establishing chapter - Enjoy!

“I have to do it,” Hermione whispered, fingers grasping the older man’s shirt tightly. She was convincing herself, more so than Bill Weasley. He had already understood what sacrifice meant. Losing a wife and a child would do that to you.

Hermione had lost too. Her parents were on the other side of the world with no memory of their only daughter. Her two best friends were dead thanks to the psychopath who had succeeded in making himself immortal and everyone around her was slowly dropping like flies.

Bill pressed a kiss to the side of her head as she clutched him desperately. She hid her face in her lover’s chest, avoiding the sight of the refurbished time-turned on her desk, developed from the shattered one that had been around a dead Minerva McGonagall’s neck.

“It will be over soon,” he whispered. Empty words, she thought. It may be over for him, over for everyone else. But she would be sacrificing the rest of her life for it to be so. She would forever be at war.

Perhaps it was a chance for atonement. She was certainly not a good person. No, not anymore. The death of the Boy-Who-Lived had purged the Order of any sense of hope that they had. Instead, they had been forced into desperation, forced to survive. There was no Light or Dark magic. Only life, and those who would fight for it.

She remembered the first time she had killed. A nameless Snatcher who had caught her tripping invisible wards. Hermione had shouted the first curse that had come to mind.  _ For enemies,  _ Harry had said. How fitting that the curse she had rallied against would be the first weapon she would use to kill.

It was from that day that magic lost its barriers. She sought tomes and grimoires, soaking in everything she could find that would be useful in the fight for Life. Several had fought against the use of Dark Magic, like Arthur and Molly Weasley, but losing three of their children had convinced them of the necessity. 

The second kill didn’t bring on a panic attack like the first had. It was like an obvious thing. The sky is blue, her eyes were brown and she killed for the second time. 

It was numbing.

Bill had been a haven. Fleur had been murdered within a year of the Battle of Hogwarts, killed on a supply run. She had been found by Muggles, and the muggle pathology report revealed that she had been pregnant at the time.

It wasn’t until a year later that Bill and Hermione had been drinking, toasting to every goddamn being that had been lost during the war that it happened. A night of comfort, of pretending, of enjoying the feeling of someone’s lips against hers and of someone’s body pressed against hers, giving warmth that she hadn’t felt in years.

They didn’t speak about it, just let it happen.

“I’m going to do it,” Hermione said firmly, pushing Bill away slightly. With a flick of her wand, her beaded bag flew from her cupboard into her outstretched hand. “I need you to get me these ingredients,” she said, pulling out a list.

Bill took it and read through. “Salamander tears will be hard to find,” he said warningly, “I have connections but the odds of them having some of these are very low.”

“Just get me what you can,” she said, summoning her belongings and packing them away. Her bag was always ready to go, but over the past few months at this safe house meant that some things had become fixtures in the room that had become hers.

“Right,” he said with a nod. “I’ll be a couple of hours. Hang tight, you know the drill.” She offered him a tight smile, accepting his chaste kiss before watching him leave. His long dragon-leather coat was loose on him, she thought. It had belonged to Charlie who had been much broader than Bill, and the lack of food didn’t help his figure either. It hadn’t done any favours for her figure either.

When the door was shut, she tapped one of the textbooks she had been holding. The glamour melted away, revealing the notebook that held every secret, every idea, every thought that had ever run through her mind in regards to the mission. She flipped to one of the pages; the timeline.

Travelling in time wasn’t easy. Going forward wasn’t a problem. One could establish a persona, forge papers and create a whole new identity in the present to slip into when they reached the future. Going to past was harder. The present had no effect on the past, so it was a delicate process to ensure that she had the best footing when she went back in time.

Research was mandatory. Creating a web of lies was easy when you had all the information you needed at your fingerprints. With the muggles ingenious creation of the World Wide Web, it was easy to have enough information to create the perfect person, easy to gain funds when you knew ahead of time which investments would work, easy to fit into place when history had already been written. 

But it was the magic that was the difficult part. Alchemy and Dark Magic had become her friend when it came to creating the time-turner. The destruction of all the time-turners in the Department of Ministries back in her fifth year meant she had to start from scratch.

Bill’s connections certainly came in handy. With the new world order, it was difficult for Hermione to move around the Wizarding World. Her eighteen-year old face was plastered across every block in Diagon Alley, and they still had a section in the Daily Prophet dedicated to the Undesirables. It was safer to hide in Muggle London. 

While Bill wasn’t much safer, he wasn’t as recognisable as her. He had dyed his hair a dark brown, the red too easily associated with the Weasleys. He had gained contacts through both the Order and through the Goblins. While they hadn’t outrightly fought against Lord Voldemort, they were willing to keep friendly ties with the few wizards they trusted. Potion ingredients were expensive, and it was thanks to his access to Gringotts, and Harry’s vault which had been bequeathed to Hermione, that the two could afford the rare luxuries of ingredients and food. 

Hermione slipped her bag into her jacket pocket which was also magically extended to hold the bag easily. Regardless of the fact that this safe house had been untouched for a few months, she still kept the jacket on incase she had to disappear. She sat on the bed, looking around forlornly.

She would miss it.

She hated the fear, the chase for safety and survival but she would miss Bill, miss whoever else that the War had spared.

But it was a sacrifice she would have to make.


End file.
